At dawn on the 15th of August, the first ripples were felt. The sun peeked over the Caucasus Mountains and illuminated a sleepy town which was populated by the first witnesses to the event about to unfold. Many had been stirred awake by a perceptible rumble in the ground and in the walls. Babies’ cries and animal howls could be heard throughout the village and indeed for many miles as the ripples travelled outwards from the epicentre. An earthquake was not out of the question, the area had experienced shocks such as these before, and apart from some tired denizens being rudely awoken none took much more notice. 37 minutes later the second ripple began, this time less forceful but more prolonged and now people began to take more notice. Very few remained in bed as the rumbling continued. It became apparent that the very air seemed to be vibrating now, and a sulfurous scent penetrated walls and windows that seemed to emanate from nowhere. A young journalist and agricultural blogger stationed in the village noted his thoughts on webcam for his 558 followers on a Russian social media site.

“So, this is Samuil for Agriculture Analysis. I *yawn* I woke up this morning to a weird rumbling… Ahhh it seems to be an earthquake. We get them now and again here, usually a bigger earthquake happens further away and we feel it here and so on. I just said I would let you guys know, most of you will probably be still in bed but, you know, I was awake and I said, well, may as well make myself do something useful. So boiling some tea right now, getting food for my cat, say hello Viki! *meowing heard off camera* So, I’m just getting everything ready for the Three Hills race. I will be there reporting and checking out the market, you know the usual, and, and I hope to see you guys there, had a great amount of fun last month at *Samuil stays silent, watching the window as an audible bang is heard from far away* I do not know what that was, I may just pick up the camera. There is something going on outside, just one moment.”

What was seen by five followers of Samuil was him recording the sky above the village as more bangs followed, enough to drown out the reporter as he tries to relay what he sees. Distortion begins to affect the recording and images struggle to form. All that is seen is a blue sky with scattered morning cloud and a thin streak of light coursing across the sky.

By 7.30, the ripples could now be felt as far afield as Lisbon and trawlers beginning the dawn routine on the Atlantic. Relatively calm waters began to hum with activity and shoals of fish began to swirl bout chaotically in confusion. Disruptive effects began to cause most low energy devices to periodically turn on and off again. Larger, more insulated electrical outlets remained relatively unfazed. Sonar, Radar, weather stations and telescopes began to malfunction or give off false positives. The word got around quickly that something was the matter and no major international incidents took place though all flights and cruises arriving to their respective ports experienced some difficulty in getting messages across. None could be green-lit to leave as the distortion worsened throughout the day. By 9.15 the rumbling had finally stopped and electronics worked correctly again though not before countless amounts of damage over the hemisphere had taken place. Back in the small village, crowds began to filter out into the day and many went to a small nearby hillock to watch what was occurring in the bronze-blue sky.

A noticeable splotchy object had appeared in the sky, right beside the moon thanks to parallax. It seemed to fizz and remold itself like a great amoeba. It had the colouration of an inky brown not unlike the colour of muddy water, with small white spheres just barely noticeable through a telescope. It buckled and writhed, hanging suspended in the vast blue of space. Reports filtered out from nearby towns and it wasn’t long before news spread of this strange phenomenon. Satellite telescopes above the Earth’s atmosphere began to swivel towards the disturbance and furiously took photographs, beaming them to bewildered and bleary eyed stargazers alike. Noone on the opposite side of the globe could see it firsthand so they had to rely on pictures being sent from the area of observation. Of course the vast array of emotions available was to be seen in everyone following the story. Some feared the object and what it could portend, others stared at it blankly, paralysed by curiosity. One couple in South America had already begun furiously drawing out a plan for a souvenir t-shirt range while a boy on a central Asian hillside stared wistfully at it as one would stare at a teenage crush. Many remained going about their business, not wanting to wait around while there was work to be done. Radios, TVs, phones and laptops all remained switched on though, just to see what was happening. By 10.45 they had something to talk about.

The object opened up, pulsing slightly, contracted then widened once more. Several bursts of light shot outwards and arced to the sides of the object. It began to take on a more disc-like shape. Protrusions crept outwards from the centre and reached out into the sky. more beams of light shot out and again arced back in like great solar flares. White particles emanated from the void like a blizzard and fluorescent light shone from the disc’s edges. Debris and detritus flowed outward into space and the disc continued to grow. Much of the world stalled now to watch the event. Each person achingly curious to know what it was, yet utterly powerless to investigate further. All they could do was watch the event unfold, while family on the other side of teh world slept on, mostly oblivious to what was happening. The disc grew and grew, taking up a large chunk of the sky, and then began to bulge. Slowly but surely, a great form pushed outwards from its centre. A bulbous protrusion, flanked on all sides by tiny spindly appendages. The form was shaded as it arrived but began to light up slowly. Fluorescent nodes along the service illuminated first in straight lines, then shifted into many geometric patterns. Spirals, triangles, twisting lines, glyphs, graphs and circles all swarmed about the surface of the form. It then began to emerge and the true horror began to dawn.

At first it appeared as if it was a mountain arising from the void. A pyramidal peak pushed forward with the appearance of a slow pace but with what must have been breakneck speed in truth when considering the scale involved. The peak pushed ever outward, then rose up and out towards the edge of the disc. It pushed forward ever more, until eventually a great blast of energy exploded from the edges of the disc. People watched on as the energy hurtled towards the Earth’s surface. It struck against the atmosphere with an unmerciful squeal and then an ear splitting boom. Electricity crackled across the atmosphere and lightning struck many cities on the hemisphere. When people regained themselves they looked up to see purple and pink auroras winding across the sky, and the protrusion that had breached the barrier from the void. A great mound with the appearance of a stone plateau with a mossy yellow and brown colour had poked itself out into space. The sun shining upon it gave a better impression of its shape now. It seemed to be diamond shaped with a thick posterior and a tapered point at its anterior. Crags and bulges that looked almost like drumlins lined its hide. A large indentation like a hollowed out cave nestled on one side and streams of light continued to arc in and out of it in the same curious manner of the disc. It moved from side to side once, and people could see that it was suspended by a flexible “neck” of intertwined purple and grey vine-like joints.

Screams of horror emanated from certain areas as people began to panic at the sight of the thing. Leaders and parents could only look on in impotence, unable to comprehend what they were seeing and unable to placate anyone with their words. They sat at their desks or on their chairs open mouthed and silent. It was 12.45 now.

More protrusions began to teem at the point the disc initially broke. They manage to breech without the powerful blast of energy that was initially created. Long, sinewy appendages erupted from the inky blackness, and begn to tear away the barrier into known space. Shards of the inky barrier floated away before suddenly stopping in place, suspended by an unknown force. With the barrier dissipating the celestial “snow” began to gush forth at a much more voluminous rate. The flakes struck the form’s appendages and “head” and exploded in showers of sparks that the thing did not seem to react to. From beneath its neck unfurled two extremely long arms ending in 9 digits. They arms where folded up like construction arms, and shred the same vine-like anatomy of the neck. They reached out and clasped the edge of the disc. With a tight grip, the form began to lurch forward, though it seemed to do so with some difficulty. Something held it back in its attempt to enter the solar system. The luminous nodes began to swirl again and converge at the tip of the anterior of the head. They shone brightly, almost brighter than the nearby sun, before lifting from the surface of the form. Flung out to space, they grew long, straight, wing-like protrusions. Each node left a trail of light behind it as they all flew to the edges of the disc. Once there they exploded in bulbs of energy, ripping the edge of the disc to shreds. The form now seemed to almost fall forward, and many more arms followed it out that were attached to it from many angles. More of the stone-like armour covered the body with the vines growing out from any space they could find. A tail and two powerful looking hind legs followed, thicker and more rough looking than even the head. Each arm outstretched to grip a floating piece of the shattered barrier, anchored in space.

Soon after another, invisible, silent wave of energy hit the Earth, causing major damage to buildings on its surface and outright killing several people who weren’t merely knocked over. Hardly anyone bother to get up again now they figured what was going on, while some brave souls bit through the pain enough to stand. Everyone was watching and waiting now for what was about to unfold.

At 3.05, after some time standing relatively motionless in space, the form moved enough for people to see the void behind it. Colours danced in the former disk, and the hole elft behind seemed to leak unknown quantities of a gaseous substance. The nodes that had exploded before now reformed and joined with their host again, only to fly off once more and form a circle in front of the head. They swirled around and another, more translucent disc formed. The thing stuck on of its arms through and seemed to rummage around. Astronomers looked on in horror as yet another disc formed beside a much more nearby Mars. The arm extended, disembodied from the disc and clasped one of the Martian moons as if it were a marble. The thing plucked the moon from orbit and retreated through the rift. It seemed to regard the celestial body in its hand for a moment, before crushing it to dust. Particles flew upward and were taken by the swirling nodes which had closed the gate they created. Seemingly satisfied, the thing began to spread all of its arms wide. Four extra limbs could barely be seen sprouting from its back, larger than the other four primary ones, but nigh on invisible. Only particles smashing against them betrayed their existence. At 5.50 the arms curled inwards once more and swirling tendrils of energy began to converge into a spheroid clasped in the thing’s hands. The coalescence continued to grow and grow for an hour or so, and the more it did, on Earth the vibrations and noise became unbearable. Not only that, but the very air seemed to be cooking.

By this point, it was becoming clear what was happening. What would happen, and by extension what would happen no more. The one though that entered one person’s mind as the end encroached was thus:

“It…does it even notice us… Can it even see? Can’t it?”

The waves of energy came with no precedent. More invisible energy was released the larger the orb got and one after another hit the surface of the Earth. Atmosphere, Land, Sea, Towns, People, all erased in moments as the surface of the Earth on one side was wiped bare. Those who had been asleep on the other side were startled awake but did not have time to comprehend what had happened before the thing released the orb. The final wave that resulted completely dismantled the Earth, reducing it to atoms in an instant.

A mere few hours

]]>https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2017/04/19/eviction/feed/0maelstrominthevalleyAoisnua Pt. 6https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-6/
https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-6/#respondSun, 29 May 2016 23:42:17 +0000http://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/?p=576Continue reading →]]>“Well Christ in a sausage roll, you too look happy don’t you. Guessing word got to you about the boys we lost up North? Happens, try not to let it get you down!”

Lecinta’s callousness was the byproduct of years of losing friends to the job, they could excuse her chipper attitude for now. Síonna shuffled uncomfortably and Aithne was trying to find the right words. Lecinta looked like she was at a loss herself.

“What’s up with you two? Spit it out! How’d the mission go? We’ve lost patrols today and that fact made me less nervous than I am being now! Patrolmen Aicil and McGarif, speak!”

Síonna got it out first. “We have a problem boss, a big one.”

Lecinta motioned for her to continue, Aithne picked it up.

“That excursion you sent us on…eh… how to put it. We ran into a few unexpected hurdles. One: That shoal you sent us out to was a LOT bigger than a couple, but that’s neither here nor there. Two, that smuggler band that I assume now you knew were going to cross paths with the shoal, were also a lot bigger than just a boat or two. Third: Those same smugglers were carrying enough munitions to blow up the world ten times over, as well as a chemical weapon that dissolved an Oarfishes’ head on contact.”

Lecinta was staring long and hard at the two of them. The hard interior began to show through as her eyes narrowed and her mouth went taught. She breathed heavily through her nose and sat thinking for some time. Finally she said.

“This sounds like this could be a problem for us, alright, go into detail, leave nothing out. Síonna, grab a notepad from the drawers over yonder. Follow my lead girlie, I’m going to need your help on this one.

Aithne gave her full report, warts and all; A hunting trip that bit off more than it could chew, a surprise fleet, a massacre, chemical weapons and a cache fit for an army. Lecinta began her usual furious writing. Every now and again she would point at Síonna’s page whenever she wanted something noted in duplicate, tapping to her side without taking her eyes away from her own work.

Aithne detailed as much as she could the types and amounts of weapons involved. She handed in the documents found in the bridge. Lecinta rifled through them and shut them in her drawer. She told Síonna to take down a number and not to let anyone else but Lecinta and Aithne to see it.

“Keep it with you girlie, I’ll need you to be on guard from now on.”

“Ma’am, may I ask, were you aware that we would run into pirates near those Oarfish?”

“Aye, let’s make this quick Aithne. Yes I was very aware that a pirate flotilla was on its way to the co-ordinates I sent you both. I figured they would run into the oarfish first but, of course, they were slowed down by those container ships so you guys got hit before they did. I thought it would have gone more smoothly than what it did. It was my mistake, Aithne, I put you two in danger and I apologise. I take responsibility as commander but I also ask that this conversation does not leave this room…”

Síonna looked up for a moment, thoughtful, and then returned to her work. Aithne was still a bit sore over the ordeal, but they had bigger issues at hand so her gripes would have to wait. Lecinta always placed importance in having confidence in her troops. It was all fine and good minimizing all risks, but the sea was unpredictable, and patrols had to be flexible and able to work under surprise conditions. This backfired from time to time such as in this case now but it stuck with her ethos of bringing up the best: making a Coastguard capable of facing off against any future challenges. People like Aithne and her peers were the result of this, capable of making good and quick decisions to offset the overall weaknesses of the CG corp, namely its small size and limited resources. Lecinta placed her trust in the senior members, she held them with an iron grip but never babied them or spoke with anything less than the respect they deserved. Likewise her ethos spread to Cuirmac aswell; for all his temper tantrums and brutishness he always put himself on the line alongside his charges. Rita was the closest thing many of them had for a home, and it may be cliché but when you fight and die side by side, you learn what it is to be a comrade, maybe even to be part of a family. The listlessness found among those living back on the mainland was not found here, where it was arguably a much harsher environment.

Whenever Aithne was back home, she felt frustrated with the inertia the city brought: All high walls and grey streets. The clouds rarely seemed to part, it rarely felt warm to live in. The seasons had long since vanished to be replaced with bitter longevity. She often thought back to the young ones back on the streets: they found the slightest glimmer of beauty in a gloomy existence through being together. Only the adults who stuck with their friends lasted long. Even platonic or more distant relationships were all most needed. Marriages were rare though the birth rate had thankfully remained steady throughout the years. There had been scare after scare that Caladbolg would sterilise the population with its lesser known properties, but it seemed its physiological impact was minimal on the larger populace. Communal living was growing in popularity with the onset of scarce resources as no one person could amass enough to live alone. One person may have been a plumber while another was a carpenter while yet another could cook and bake. It wasn’t the kindest environments as such, but people survived and maybe even found their little bit of happiness. For Aithne though she couldn’t settle with city life, and the country was a big no-no after bandits began to plague the roadways. She slept in her small and cosy bedsit at night and was back at Rita every morning for her duties. Lecinta was the one who gave her direction, and Cuirmac ensured that she had the tools to get there in one piece. Heroics weren’t really the Coastgaurd’s style but it was always a nice bonus to think they were doing some good for some people.

By the time Aithne left Síonna and Lecinta in the office it had grown dark, so she would be spending the night on Rita before setting off in the morning. She had things to do. Before she went to bed she paid Earken a visit again. He was busy at his station, meticulously cleaning and arranging his medical tools for reuse. Sterilisation was a relatively straightforward procedure thanks to the same shielding technology Caladbolg made possible for other everyday uses, though rust and wear could still be a problem at times. Earken liked to make sure these were done manually, such was his nature. He once told Aithne of how his ancestors were famous for their metalsmithing, and that he liked to keep the spirit of their work alive though the culture was long since disappeared from public view. He had just started another when Aithne walked in.

“Ah, Aithne, well! How was your day, heard you were off fishing.”

“I was Earken, got to be fisher, rod, line, bait, the whole shebang! Still kicking I see?”

“Ah yeah, still busy,” he turned in his chair to face her. “What can I do for ya today?”

“It’s the damn cut, it got worse and worse since I got back today.”

She lifted her vest and sure enough, the infection had spread and blackened all across her side from back to belly. Earken gritted his teeth and hissed at the sight.

“Alright, we’ll have to see what’s going on here.” He took up a newly cleaned scraper and took flaky skin samples from the surface of the infection. Blisters had already begun to form around the centre of the wound and Aithne could swear she smelled the decay getting stronger by the minute. Earken took the samples to his spare microscope and tested a few before sitting back and rubbing his eyes in exasperation. He faced Aithne and touched the tips of his fingers together.

“You are really not going to like what I’m going to say.”

“Ah balls, really?”

“Aithne, you need to get the graft. That was a bad wound already, and I assume it’s like that even though you were taking your antibiotics am I right?” Aithne twisted her mouth and nodded slowly.”This is the fifth time this month Aithne. You know we are only equipped in the medbay to fight colds and flu symptoms, the ongoing stuff we cant fix. Christ like, Síonna is one of the lucky ones we had a good stock of her meds before she started to enter remission. Your sickness though, Aithne, is your stubbornness, and it’s gonna kill you eventually.” Seeing her disappointment, Earken went back a bit.

“I’m sorry, you know I deal with this every day, it gets hard. You need to get the skin graft. You must have got it in contact with the venom from the oarfish today. The thing is, even if I fix it with surgery today, you’ll be back in here tomorrow because you’ll be on assignment and you might get shot and it’ll make you septic and there’ll be little I can do about it and I’ll be saying the exact damn same thing.”

Aithne sat down on the stool opposite and breathed heavily. She would kill for a cigarette now but she’d wasted her supply. The graft was something she always dreaded. Any time she thought about it her mind would shut out the idea. She would go and try to distract herself with work and such, but the fear always came back whenever she had time to herself.

“I… I don’t want to become like them Earken. I don’t want to become a robot. I like me. I don’t want to turn into a doohickey to suit someone else.”

“I know girl, I know. None of us want it. It’s a bit late to be like that Aithne.” He pulled up his sleeve to remind her of the extent of his arm replacement. “ We’re living in their world now Aithne, not our own. It was a long time when things were made to accommodate flesh and blood… Please get it done. I can’t force you but Jesus I still have to convince you somehow. You won’t last long with a wound like that.”

Aithne looked in the mirror at her festering skin, bit her lip and nodded. Earken picked up the phone and called for the mechanics to come up for the consultation.

“Do you want to know something Aithne? Les and Cromwell got it done at the same time, the exact same place too! Both of them blubbered like babies. I don’t mind telling you because I’m sure they’ll tell you themselves at some point. But here were our two best and brightest, and here was a kid from the refuge outside of town getting a full quadro-replacement laughing his head off with his new arms. We adults can’t really deal with change can we.”

“Heh, I suppose we can’t very much can we.” She felt a little better, glad that she had went to Earken and not the base medic again. “Well, now that you’ve given me my bad news. I have some for you. Les might have a job for you during the week.”

Earken’s bedside smile drooped and his eyes darkened. “I am most certainly not going to enjoy this am I?”

“Thinking about it now Earken, probably not,” she replied.

]]>https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-6/feed/0maelstrominthevalleyAoisnua Pt. 5https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-5/
https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-5/#respondSun, 29 May 2016 23:30:58 +0000http://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/?p=532Continue reading →]]>As with any other dangerous profession, the largest and most potent risk to anyone’s health while patrolling was boredom. The mind wanders, focus is lost, a potentially life-saving manoeuvre is not made in time. Once patrolmen got into the groove of flying oversea routinely the magic of the act was often lost. The younger recruits were liable to start goofing around while on the bikes, pulling loops, freefalls and the like. The sea was vast, flat and serene most of the time. Ironically enough it was the stormy patrols that often ended up being the most incident free as far as most missions went. Sure you could die easily from a gale force wind knocking you free of your harness, or your bike going dead and even the odd freak wave or lightning strike taking you out. In storms though, only the very brave and very stupid smuggler and pirate travelled by sea. Aithne once saw a blimp even try the crossing before winds knocked it into the sea, its crew and cargo never found again. Meanwhile she could only watch it unfold. Patrols learned often the hardest thing was not putting your neck out. Criminals may have been humans too, but the official line was to never try a rescue unless strictly part of the mission statement. Willing recruits were hard to come by even with the Friary sending volunteers now and again, and losing them in fruitless rescue attempts was the catalyst for banning heroics in any form. The CGs were just too sparsely populated to justify any loses even as they were. Rita was one of the luckier ones and even she was often near empty during the day. Aithne had a sick day in at one point, and on her way to med bay she travelled what must have been a quarter mile of walkways without seeing a single soul. The engineers would be crawling throughout the base, fixing things here and there, and of course the patrols were all out at once, covering as much ground as they could. It really was like living on civilisations last line of defense.

As for days like this; lightly overcast, the odd sunbeam, slightest drizzle of rain now and again, dead calm, these were the days were the worst trouble started. Visibility was too good-the bikes were made more for infiltration and these days they stood out against the monochrome landscape with their distinctive frills and pointed snouts. Not to mention the glowing undersides lined with Caladbolg. Ships and smaller planes would have the advantage and could use long range weaponry to take out the patrol and try and slip by before more were called in to investigate. Of course even if they got by patrols through firepower or speed, then they would have Rita to contend with. The bikers would radio in coordinates and Rita would ready her Spear: One massive cannon with several smaller ones for support and corralling enemies. Noone made it right past Rita or any of the other CG bases for that matter. They would always have to go the long route if they wanted any chance, which is why patrols often tried to force them in a certain direction if they couldn’t beat them outright. Rita was the big sister of the sea, always ready to step in when her siblings were in trouble. Patrols rarely saw her in action directly, but they always heard. The sound was more like branches snapping in the distance rather than the thunderous boom you would expect. Whenever a shot was planned, all Coastguards were ordered to retreat to a safe distance before the show commenced. It was always quick and it was always brutal. The shell appeared over the horizon, the ship tried to evade, but then everything was turned to dust in one massive detonation. The smugglers were always offered a chance to surrender peacefully. And the older ones always did. In future there would never be any confident smugglers left, as all of them would have been taken down by Rita.

“Urgh…Boss…yeuch…why can’t we just have Radar find the shoal and shoot them with the Spear? Why do we have to do it ourselves?” Síonna was already in the throes of boredom as they flew over each designated spot and threw down a little chum at a time. They had found a school of salmon and dropped a grenade in on them to collect some bait for their real quarry. The rancid fish guts were giving Síonna a headache, and her complaining was giving Aithne one too.

“God’s sake Síonna give me a break, we don’t waste shells on animals you know that. I know the job is crap at first but trust me, this is good practice.”

“Practice for what?! The smugglers are way easier than this. This is nuts!”

Aithne shoved on her helmet to shut out the noise. It had been three hours and Síonna was already in her mode-du- ennui. If she had been anyone else Aithne wouldn’t have even brought her out this far. But the young one was at least a hard worker, loud and whiney maybe, but also diligent enough to warrant proper training. Aithne’s abdominal scar was beginning to itch again. All the adrenaline from the day had made her forget, but she could imagine the acrid chum finding some way through her layers and infecting the scar with its stench. She left the bucket hanging on her foot pedal and rummaged for some antibiotics. She lifted her balaclava and knocked a few back her throat. She turned to Síonna and signalled for water. Her partner had long given up giving medical advice and flung a small bottle over to her. Aithne caught it first but fumbled it, and it dropped down into the chum bucket, which knocked it off balance and all of it hurtled into the sea. Aithne went to curse just as she say eyes peering at her from below the surface…

The Oarfish had been below this whole time and leapt from the depths. It took bucket, bottle and chum all in one gulp into its massive maw. Rows of thorns lined its lips and it pulverised its snack with a great big crunch. Aithne reeled back in shock.

“Holy Fuuurrrrrrrrggggglllll,” She gasped as she began to choke on a tablet and swayed to and fro on her seat trying to dislodge it from her chest. The fish sank and began to wind up for another breech. Síonna and Aithne surged forward away from the danger zone, with Síonna coming up hard from behind with a sharp elbow to Aithne’s back. She dislodged the obstruction and Aithne vomited out the pills into the below, only for more Oarfish to rise and breach. They had ended up right in the middle of the shoal and they never saw them.

“*Hack* *Cough* *Arrrgh* Bollocks, Síonna! Javelins 2, 3 and 4” She signalled her orders just to be sure she was understood and Síonna began arming shots for Aithne to fire. They rose as high as they could without losing the Shoal’s interest. The leviathans snapped at their heels without fail; three, then five, then ten gigantic monsters with more certainly on the way. Glistening azure skin and frilled spines and crests, they were the picture of underwater horror. Where their ancestors were usually less trouble, these ones had developed the strongest of desires for human flesh. They had rendered sharks and whales extinct already before humans could finish the job. The two riders upped the throttle and led the monsters along, trying to space them out so they could start attacking, but the speed and ferociousness was too much. Aithne had been unknowingly dumping blood right on top of them and they were in a fever for food. The bait tasted a little too good for the fisher’s liking. The lot of them began to writhe on top of one another, trying to reach higher for their lunch. And then things got worse…

Síonna spotted them first, and whizzed by Aithne to draw her gaze. Two container ships on the horizon with four escorts. The crew on both were on deck and cheering, watching the two struggle to stay aloft. Pirates no doubt, they had just been given a show for the day and were hanging back and relaxing while their enemies were about to be torn to shreds. Aithne was less than impressed at this, and decided to snag two fish for the day. She grabbed Síonna’s unused bucket of bait and signalled her to hold position and keep the Oarfish busy. She did her best while Aithne veered to the side and began to fly towards the pirates at full speed. A few of them laughed at her pitiful attempt at fighting. An escort pulled up and began to ready its gun.

“Good,” she thought. “These are the thick kind of pirate. C’mon lads, look at me, that’s right.keep those guns trained on me.”

A well placed drop would do the job; anywhere in front of the nearest escort would probably suffice. She continued to hurtle towards it as anti-air shells began to explode in front of her. None were a direct hit yet but the odds were shifting the more she stayed high. A nerve shredding few seconds later and she was within range. She hunched down as low as she could and flicked the switch. A bubble of energy enveloped her in an air pocket. The Caladbolg was doings its job swimmingly so to speak. She dove down right under the escort. Looking around, her heart skipped when she saw dozens more Oarfish slumbering just below. They evidently had left their kin fight over the chum and had not noticed the buffet just above their heads. Aithne shoved the bucket out of the air pocket, bursting it and diffusing the bloody remains with the water. Below, bioluminescent eyes shone like lanterns and trained on the shadows on the surface. Aithne skipped out of the water again, now behind the first container ship. Bonne Chance was emblazoned on its side along with graffiti in Bethú script; The men aboard were hollering and pointing at her to the escort below them. A flak gun trained on AIthne, maybe slightly off target, and fired.

A beast rose form below and took the full hit in Aithne’s place. Blood spurted from where the shell hit and caked Aithne and the Bonne Chance’s hull. The headless corpse flopped back into the water, and of course the whole Oarfish Shoal was aware of the ruckus now. Aithne spat the blood from her lips and rose higher still as the pirates had reeled in surprise from the serpent rising out of nowhere. Another one breached and dove straight through the flimsy little escort ship, sinking it near instantly. Blood attracted more blood as all the gang got in on the action. Now they were ignoring Aithne and everyone was fighting for their lives.

Aithne rejoined Síonna and their mission began in earnest. Five Javelins were ready to go, Síonna pulled through under pressure and kept loading even when being chased. Aithne grabbed two and dove down. She flew alongside Oarfish that were still on the surface and pricked their skin with the Javelin. In the frenzy none of them felt the initial spear, but after a few seconds each exploded in a viscous shower of disgusting fluids. Switching to using the launchers properly, Aithne took aim and fired rockets into any open mouths she could see. The dim-witted creatures ate up the projectiles with glee before, yet again, explosions. Fifteen Oarfish were down and many more were to go. The pirate fleet had fared poorly in their first altercation but were now gaining some ground. They laid depths charges, jettisoned unwanted containers and fired indiscriminately below the surface. Attrition brought tehir numbers down until just two escorts and a container ship remained. The other was good until several fish jumped aboard and thrashed about causing chaos and crashing into every person and instrument in sight. One managed to burrow its way into the lower holds, its great weight breaking any weak floors it ended upon. The confused creature went on to help topple the boat as weight distribution was out of control: All hands were lost.

It was now Aithne and Síonna’s turn to hang back and watch. They took no real pleasure from watching the slaughter, but they needed to find out what was in those containers. They would let each side whittle each other down until they could finish off the remnants by themselves. That was the plan until one unlucky Oarfish managed to get inside a container. It could be heard thrashing and biting at something inside before bursting out the other end with a sort of tank in its jaws. It clamped down hard on the tank and a sparkling mist seeped from it. The fish dropped its prey, it not tasting as good as it had hoped, and for a moment remained still. It remained motionless for a moment before madly thrashing about in the water. It rolled around and round, mucus flinging from its agape mouth. Finally its skin blackened around its head and lines began to glow following the creatures veins and nervous system. It looked as if it had grown bigger before the head shrivelled up and fell off. Whatever these pirates had would be a problem for everyone. More Oarfish began to cannibalise their fallen friend and soon met the same fate. The canister that had cause this was still in the water, spewing the same mist. It formed a layer on the surface that floated towards the nearest escort boat. The metal of the hull that came in contact with the solution began to warp and bend. Sheets of steel folded like cloth and fell into the sea. The men were unaware of the danger until it was well too late. The boat keeled over and sank immediately. Seeing this, the men on the remaining boats fled to their life rafts, hoping that being in smaller vessels would allow them to slip by unnoticed. As soon as they all hit the water, Oarfish rose up and gobbled up the sailors in one go before retreating with their spoils. Aithne and Síonna killed a few stragglers before the rest absconded, the pitiful food not worth the risk. In all only the unmanned Bonne Chance and a now sinking escort remained.

The patrollers touched down on the deck. The ship had been pockmarked with friendly fire. Bodies lay everywhere of human and beast. It said a lot about the job that neither CG wasted time in running a search through all the carnage. Síonna started in the lower decks and Aithne went straight for the bridge. The crew inside had been hit by machine gun fire and all lay crumpled in a heap on the floor, rolling slightly with the motion of the ship. Aithne grabbed any documents she could find and stuffed them in her pack. She downloaded digital logs onto a waterproof data drive and rifled through pockets for identification, fake or otherwise. When she was done, she headed down to find Síonna. She called down and her partner answered.

“Aithne! They’ve enough to start a war down here! Look!”

Aithne slid down the banisters making her way to the hold. Sure enough, a weapon cache of biblical proportions lay in wait below all untagged and ready for distribution. Now Bethú was a small country in size, its population was just about topping off at eight million. The amount of force here was disproportionate to the population. Sure you had the Fethem to contend with, but if you wanted to mount a rebellion against them, it would be best to remain low and decentralised so as not to attract too much attention. This cache-and it wasn’t even half of what they had initially- would certainly have attracted some attention.

“Who in the hell would want all this boss?”

“I don’t know Síonna, I just don’t know. Let’s call this in, the fun times are over and I am sporting a massive headache, must be this damn cut… We need to head back. You’ll have your wish, we’ll be doing paperwork for weeks now after this.”

They radioed in an exclusion zone for ten miles around the battlefield, the dispatcher confused at what inspired such an extreme measure from two random patrollers. Lecinta was busy with some investigations of her own so the dispatcher told them to come back and get their story together for her to save time. On their way back they passed the retrieval squad, when they told them what they would be finding the CGs looked at each other nervously. Nevertheless they went on their way to see what they could scrounge up from the wreckages, hoping that there wouldn’t be any leftover Oarfish hoping to scavenge the bodies left behind. Aithne and Síonna came into Rita and the whole base seemed to mirror their sullen mood. Apparently some patrols had been lost without contact while they were away. Whether it was connected to the weapons shipment they intercepted, Aithne could not say for sure now; the timing was too close to discount it. They hooked up their bikes and went to return any special weapons they had, spent or otherwise. They met Cuirmac on the way.

“Reporting, Sir, is Commander Crafter on base?”

“Oh, Aithne. Yes she is, but she won’t be ready for debrief for another half hour or so. Hope you have some better news for us now.”

“Hoped I did, sir, hoped I did.”

“Hrrrm, go wash up and get some food in to you before you go in.”

“Sir.”

For Aithne and Cuirmac to be so courteous to one another everyone could guess that things were not good. Both of them agreed to meet back outside the command centre after running their errands. Síonna went to get some shuteye while Aithne went to the clinic to restock the tablets she lost. Again the doc was putting up a fuss and giving out about wasted supplies, but even he didn’t have the energy to be a pain today. He gave her an overdue tetanus shot and some tablets to keep the infection down. She went to her dorm to redo the dressing over the now reopened wound. It must have happened in the fracas though there didn’t seem to be much blood at all. The day had put her in a solemn mood and she began to think more about her health now. She joined the others in the canteen and got some warm food into her to lighten her mood. Síonna was waiting for her when she reached the command centre. She couldn’t sleep yet so they would be doing the debrief together. They knocked and entered.

]]>https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-5/feed/0maelstrominthevalleyAoisnua Pt 4.https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-4/
https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-4/#respondSun, 29 May 2016 23:11:28 +0000http://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/?p=489Continue reading →]]>Síonna had been sure as sure could be to leave at least two metres between herself and Aithne.Bosslady was in the sourest of moods since she’d come back. Síonna had in fact done the lucky thingand went back to bed in her huff. She slept out the hours she had missed out this morning and while still lethargic she at least was functional again. Aithne was positively radiating hatred at this point, everyone was doing their best to avoid her in the corridors. Aithne was normally so passive with her co-workers that this would be hilarious if she didn’t appear so angry. She stormed past the dorms just as Síonna was getting back into her overalls and grabbing her gear. Seeing the situation she was in, Síonna took the initiative and fetched their itinerary and mission list for the day from Lecinta.

“Ey, up, Sheila? Not used to seeing you in before Big Girl?” the Commander was cheery after her

Afternoon tea, imported straight from the continent on a shipwrecked continental vessel. Salvage was generally accepted as a perk of the job, and since Lecinta and Cromwell could rarely get off base, it wasn’t odd to see them receive gifts for the odd favourable rota slot. Both commanders weren’t above doling out gifts on occasion, if only to keep the team’s spirits up. The commander threw a small bar of chocolate to Síonna for her lunch.

“Thanks Les, naw Bosslady isn’t too happy today. What’s going on?”

“Ehhhh, best not get involved Girlie, don’t bring it up. It was some Ministerial types giving her a hard time. Just play along today, don’t get on her nerves and she’ll be right. In fact, lemme see here” Lecinta rifled through her files for the day: “Here, you two go out today on a hunting trip, it’ll help Aithne blow off some steam, right?”

“Gotcha, Les. What are we…ohhh… yeah think I’ll let Aithne take these herself.” Síonna’s face fell as she read through the mission brief. “Ah ah ah!” Lecinta waved her hand in Síonna’s face. “No ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’ from you Sheila because you’re doing as yer told today y’hear?”

“Yes Les…if I get eaten though I’m haunting you for the rest of your life!”

“Sorry love, can’t hear you over the sound of these hundreds of poor souls I’ve sent to their deaths over the years, what was that? Speak up!” She tilted and rattled her busted watches to make them sound like rattling chains. Sionna smirked to hide her shame a little. Lecinta had long made peace with the role of her work, but many of the others weren’t so quick to mention the death toll to their families. It was grim but necessary work, gallows humour was a staple of the veterans, but the younger recruits always had to adjust to it. Lecinta herself had been on the chopping block, the name veterans gave to high risk missions, enough times herself. She had served her time, and in a period where her predecessor had much worse fatality counts than she could ever muster. Back when the Coast Guard thought to win back the land from the machines.

Lecinta shooed Síonna off to work and went back to her desk. Now that the morning hubbub had died down she could get her actual work done. She always enjoyed seeing off her charges but her real passion was in getting them all back again. That meant logistics and as boring as everyone else found it, Lecinta adored it. Her greatest challenge was keeping her team afloat. Putting “who” and “what” in “where” was her favourite form of pasttime . Síonna would sometimes watch her on break as she marked out charts and timetables and plans of action. She imagined Cromwell had his own station down below, though he hardly ever got a chance to use it, always on the move like a mother hen tending his eggs. Clunky, noisy and greasy; Rita was nevertheless the home away from home of everyone on site.

…

Síonna found Aithne blazing through her box of cigarettes outside. Torn butts littered the ground where she had chewed right through them. She was working through another when Síonna came up to the Helipad below the command centre’s “eye.”

“Damned fool selling me out like some gossip piece,” Aithne muttered, further disintegrating her Lucifer. She probably wasn’t even attempting to light one, preferring to munch them in disgust. Aithne always had a habit of making very audible threats almost under her breath. Anyone who met her often didn’t know if she was talking to herself or anyone in particular. Síonna had come to the point where she would ignore Aithne until she physically engaged with her enough to warrant a response. Her partner had a great habit of daydreaming at a moment’s notice, so it was more often than not Síonna’s job to snap her out of it.

“We’ve got a job Bossl-“ Aithne swiped the itinerary before Síonna could say another word. She scanned down the page, the more she read the more she seemed to stop being fidgety. By the end she had something approaching a smile on her face.

“Well isn’t that something eh Síonna? We finally have some decent work to do around here. Ohhhh been waiting for something like this to fall on our lap for years, kiddo, years. Goddamn pack of Oarfish shooting up the channel and we get to spike them. Grab our lances Síonna I’m going to prep the bikes.” She ran off pumping her fist into the air and waving the papers around before stuffing them into her pocket. Síonna was glad she was happier and all but this only meant she was going to be a bit too into work today. Hunting jobs were rare enough in the grand scheme of things. The Coast Guard usually only had to deal with pirates, but wildlife was a particular problem further south in the tropics. When the animals living near the surface of the oceans were wiped out during the Revolution of Light, all manner of beasties began to come up from below. Those were fine until Caladbolg began to have… strange effects on them. What people hadn’t realised was that the nanotechnological properties of the alloy sometimes did strange things to cellular biology if not regulated with chemical energy outputs like how the Fethem did it. For the most part it didn’t do much bar kill off a couple hundred species. Those that took to it though were often revamped into something far more notable. Oarfish, for example, really enjoyed the bounce-back they got in population. Once facing extinction, they now plagued smaller seas, often harassing small trawlers our outright devouring small boats. The fact a pack of them was headed towards Bethú was cause for concern.

Síonna dashed into the armoury and showed the quartermaster the docket that had come with the itinerary. The QM, Brien, was a relatively young man who had lost his legs in a bomb blast. Cromwell figured that since he knew what the weapons he had were capable of, then he would at least know to respect them too. Brien certainly did, and when a green patrolman comes up looking for anti-monster weaponry, he would have raised an eyebrow had they not been burned off already. When Síonna explained that it was Aithne in charge Brien relented eventually, but only after he made sure she knew what the hell she was doing with Caladbolg encrusted spears and an honest-to- god air to surface missile launcher. Síonna hoped she wouldn’t have to think of using these things. Knowing her way around weapons was one thing, having to use close range ordnance against enemies known for being able to leap without warning from underwater up to 10 metres high was quite another. Síonna wasn’t even that bad at coordinating and following training. A mission as unpredictable as this was madness for just two patrollers. Which meant an X-factor would have to be introduced which made things even more unpredictable and… she didn’t like to think about what Lecinta had in store for them both.

…

Aithe was practically bouncing down to the launch-lines. Rita’s countless passages and catwalks were often slick with sea grime but she bounded down without a care in the world. Sionna was soon left behind so Aithne took the time to find a keypad and punch in the codes for both of their hoverbikes. In case of emergency pads were located throughout Rita in order for patrolmen to notify the hangar to prep the correct bike. While before the bikes had been one size fits all, budgetary constraints meant patrols had to work-to- own and maintain their proper vehicles. The planes remained few and for special occasion but the bikes were easier to keep going. Before balance issues in the air had suggested the vehicles were pipe dreams for humans, but scavenged hoverdrones provided the blueprints for ballast and buoyancy systems that were just what prospective flyers needed. At first they were difficult to figure out and build but over time entrepreneurs began to simplify and perfect each new model. It was a long time since those good old days, and right now it was the simpler models that survived. They were by no means the best, and accidents were frequent. They were often buoyant enough to keep afloat during crash landings, but the shock on impact usually caused the most problems for riders. Cuirmac had pulverised his pelvis on his last great outing before he became a full time engineer. He couldn’t get a proper replacement since the operation was more complex and costly than most since he would need vertebrae replaced along with the rest. He made do with a brace and the occasional walking stick, as well as his usual bedside manner.

Aithne had placed the order for her bike and buzzed in the hangar.

“Hullo?..cccRrrzzzt… Bander here?!”

“Bander me good lad! Aithne and Sionna are going on patrol today and would you like to know what we are bringing with us?”

“C’mon Ait…crrrzzzt.. I’m in a rush here, put in the c…crrrzzzt..order!”

“Aww, you’re no fun Bander. Why can’t we ever have a nice chat somewhere eh? It’s always just business on this intercom isn’t it?” She was delighted that Bander picked up. He was forever in a hurry and Aithne took great pleasure in dragging along her orders to mess up his schedule. It was always the little pleasures on base that kept her going and this was one of her favorite ones.

“Aw don’t be like that dear, sure I’m only playing with ya, no need to get worked up at all t’all.”

“MY ARM CRRRZZZT –AITHNE!”

“Alright, alright, you big baby, we got a hunting order today. Brien is sending down Pikes to you. We need holsters and launchers on both the bikes and if you can fit a new accelerator and ailerons to Síonna’s we’d owe ya.”

Síonna had finally caught up. In a straight race she would normally beat Aithne, but she was always nervous on the rickety metal steps so always took them one at a time. She was rifling through documents and files while patting down her jacket and trousers. She grabbed a pen from her pocket and began furiously scribbling. She looked up at Aithne?

“Eh Aithne? You were saying? I Was just looking through the instructions for the day. Can’t see any numbers what’s that about?”

“It’s probably only a rout; get rid of a few and make the rest go away. Just send a message. Since they’re animals there’s no fixed amount to kill before the others turn tail. Play it by ear. What are you even doing the filing? Save that for when you’re in a hospital bed! We’re almost ready to go now!”

“I know, and usually I agree, leave it all ‘til later, but this stuff is new boss! Look at this one: Marine Biotechnology Awareness form. And this: Hunting habits of Oarfish correspondence course. Don’t get me started on this required reading one: Oarfish Behavioural study; Mating habits of Prey Species Pt1 abridged! I mean what do we do with this?!”

Aithne grabbed the nearest page along with Síonna’s pen, hastily wrote her signature and shoved them back into her partner’s hands. “Congratulations Síonna, on receiving your Masters degree in Mating Habits, now let’s go! We have fish to kill!”

Aithne grabbed the girl’s hand and towed her down to the launch bay. They continued to bicker over paperwork as they waited for their bikes to come out. Síonna’s greenness in the face of paperwork began to dampen Aithne’s good mood. One thing people learned when they joined the Coast guard was that despite the world having ended a few times, bureaucracy always came back from the ashes of the old world. People would always be infatuated with continuation; dredging up the past when it was way past the point of relevance. The Ministers may have been the mouthpieces of the new World Order, but they were all still the same old civil servants with their checks, balances and their cheque balances. And as much as there was a gap between them and people on the ground suckling the salty sweet earth, they would always come round with their clipboards to make sure everything was up to their standards. Lecinta’s job often involved sending someone to the Big Smoke to report to them on Coast Guard activities. She often wished aloud to report the potential activities of minister tongues on robot cavities but felt the tone of such a report would upset their dear sycophantic hearts. There was little love between Minsters and laypeople. Not only were they symbols of the autocracy of the machines over the flesh and blood, they were even specifically chosen for the job. Soon after the revolution, Crescens, the apparent upper class of the Fethem, came among the people and began choosing individuals to promote to the rank of Minister. Of course each was specifically chosen for their malleability and susceptibility to suggestions fromhigher up. They became the symbol of a humanity that accepted mechanical rule. And of course when some paved the way people could only walk the path laid down for them. Agree to follow the machine’s mouthpiece, or get ostracised from the new, stronger, better society. Not everyone was fine by that. Aithne’s own brothers and sister had been in the camp with her. She couldn’t remember the troupe’s name; it was probably only a footnote in the greater anti-machine resistance. They had holed up in the secluded valleys dotting Bethú, amassing any arms that they could; especially any EMP weaponry that would combat electrical systems. Their short-sightedness was staggering, as the machines they took on were far from the old clunkers that took part in the initial insurrection. Of course Aithne’s brothers had tried to explain to them the strengths of Fethem infused with Caladbolg that far outweighed the older models. They were still too young however, and many thought they had been brainwashed by the trappings of the high life. There was also a general distrust surrounding their aunt’s toxic legacy. They knew the current Caladbolg in use was susceptible to drying out, so fighting was best done in desolate wastelands. The troupe they fought in were the only one to make anything approaching gains in the fighting, and even then they lost too many people in a short space of time, disbanding soon after. They couldn’t account for the Fethem’s air fleet: a multitude of drones flying in formation with several great Queen Fethem. They appeared much like their teardrop-shaped underlings, except furnished with great wings of a yellow tinted translucent material. The queens dropped drones from above, and any resistance soon found itself surrounded and neutralised. To the credit of the machines, they rarely carried out executions or took prisoners. The fact that they beat the humans so easily was all the proof they needed for themselves. Pockets of futile violent action would continue to this day, to the point that it was more a nuisance than a real threat to daily life. The incident with Buggyman was the rare exception in its swift brutality.

Síonna eventually stuffed the papers in her pack, giving up trying to make sense of it all, and both stood ready for their bikes as they came down. Hoverbikes came from the hanger attached to railings that surrounded Rita in the event of a full scale attack. Riders would latch on and swing around, ready to drop and deploy. It wasn’t ideal since the bikes sometimes didn’t start on time. Aithne and Síonna instead used the South Eastern Launch platform to take off. Aithne leapt on to her mount and her partner followed suit. She flared up the throttle and the bike reared back like an unruly stallion. She held tight and settled it down. The hover kicked in evenly now and she began to float half a metre above the ground. Síonna could handle hers quite well too. The both of them turned towards the launch ramp, rusted and decayed from years of use and abuse. They hurtled towards it and shot over onto the waves. They slipped the first few waves before taking to the air. Full throttle on they flew straight and true towards the den of predators ahead.

]]>https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/29/aoisnua-pt-4/feed/0maelstrominthevalleyAoisnua Pt. 3https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/27/aoisnua-pt-3/
https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/27/aoisnua-pt-3/#respondFri, 27 May 2016 23:19:33 +0000http://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/?p=450Continue reading →]]>The waves buckled and trussed beneath Aithne’s feet as she soared over the sea toward the Riga Ola. She would dip a bit lower every now and again to kick the spray backwards, always sure not to end up dismounting herself in the middle of the sea. Manmade island fuel depots like this one were all that was left of the Old Country. Riga Ola, or Rita as her denizens called her, was a sea base that looked after the Southeastern Coast. It was made from rehashed parts from oil rigs further North that the remnants of Bethú’s governing body had repurposed for coastal defense installations. It was an ugly site to be sure but she had stuck out the worst that the Sea could throw at her so far. The work was hard, long and dangerous but it was one of the few things anyone could do around here.

Aithne had enough scars to prove the dangerous part alright.

Speaking of which, she had picked up a nasty scratch the week before when her side was pierced by a piece of exposed broken piping and it was itching again. She would have gone to the medic about it but knew full well that he would tut his usual tut and say she should upgrade to Caladbolg plate skin. Officially it was because tetanus shots were becoming harder to come by now that deliveries from overseas had nearly dried up, Truthfully, however, she felt the doc wasn’t that fond of her to begin with and wanted to fob her off to the Mechanics. Machine parts could be replaced with relative ease. Fixing a human without lopping parts off was still an artform not many practised. Aithne found the field medics easier to deal with than the onsite doc. Her friend Earken would often keep an eye on her when things got hectic on site. His treatments weren’t ideal but they were at least treatments and she was still alive for the time being. The itch was pestering her, so she would probably have to trade some cigarettes for salve from him. If it came to it, Aithne would probably just wait until her lungs gave out before she checked in with the Mechanics, what little pleasures she had in life would have to last, even if they ended up ruining her by the end. He didn’t even smoke himself, but tobacco, especially older stuff was a treasure these days. The plant could only be grown in a tiny amount of greenhouses what with pesky food demands and such, so Earken often traded with his assigned patients for other goods. Tobbaco was the go-to since other drugs had become priceless due to their scarcity. They had no day to day bartering value unless you planned on buying a house. For now, the little things kept the spirits up.

She drew closer to Rita and began to bring the throttle down on her bike. The waters around here were clean enough but you never knew when you’d run into radioactive sludge that messed with the Caladbolg powered engines. Bikes doubled as flotation aids but it was always an unwanted surprise to be gliding along only to nosedive into a sludge deposit. Under the surface lay the remains of the Old Country. In the past Bethú liked to bully its relatively bigger neighbour; military shows of force in the connecting waters between them, giant Caladbolg infused walls blocking off shipping lanes to the continent, unannounced missile tests that just barely grazed the Old Country’s fly- zone.. The wanton cruelty was believed to be payback for Bethú’s raging inferiority complex in the face of their once more powerful neighbour. But of course, in the case of any incidence of bullying, the bullied one either bites back or folds like a deck of cards, in this case the Old Country eventually decided to do both in one short year. The Aicils and Bethú itself had long been out of sorts with one another, so the family became a handy scapegoat for all the world’s current problems.

She dipped lower and lower and came into a sailing approach. Síonna, her Guard-partner was waiting on the jetty, visibly yawning even from 50 metres away. Aithne kicked up propeller and came alongside the jetty. Síonna saluted her and hooked the bike to its pulley-ring. Aithne alighted and signalled for the control tower to tow her bike up to the launch bay. The bikes often needed a ramping start at sea as the main hangar was only used by sea planes. Planes were allocated on a basis of need. If your bike was under scheduled repair or you were on a specific mission, on the plane you went. One would imagine planes would be in demand until they actually got to see the planes themselves. They were in no way true-air worthy; sporting many holes that rendered pressured cabins useless. They were more used for their ground-effect capabilities, useful for flat sea days and also for low visibility/low fuel runs. Aithne and Síonna had been on theirs some weeks previously and coupled with the fact the two were having another of their usual spats the journey was both uncomfortably long and at times almost life threateningly short as numerous engine failures put them in unexpected glides from time to time. With frayed nerves they both agreed to duck out of plane duty for as long as they could, roofing be damned. Aithne slipped off her mask and balaclava and banged the encrusted grime and salt from them.

“Morning Síonna, you’re here early, is that why you’re yawning?”

Sionna blinked again and rubbed her face. She was less than half Aithne’s age and yet twice as slow. She really was well meaning, but her joining the CGs was somewhat of a poor life choice in a world of poor life choices. The guards were overburdened and underpaid if even that at all. Money came through benefactors running ships from Aifric, circumventing the northerly Continent’s stringent trade rules in order to make a few trades providing food for raw Caladbolg. The stuff was ghastly to work with but now the former monopolisers had done a runner there was a great demand for the alloy’s components overseas. The raw stuff was relatively easy to find, but not many knew what process refined that into the real stuff. Caladbolg research is now a modestly successful endeavour, with plenty of interested parties demanding it. The fact that the Coast Guard had become a de facto police force in lawless Bethú was a side effect of this patronage. All the mercheants wanted was pirates off their backs. All the people wanted was some work and for their families back home to not be fed garbage for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and so a partnership was struck. Síonna’s role in all this was mostly down to her problematic diet. She could hardly eat most everyday foods since she was a toddler, never mind the stuff the pirates brought in. She needed specialist drugs and nutrient supplements that were mercifully provided to all CGs on sign up owing to the everyday environmental risks of the job. However they only kept her condition at bay and it showed. She could never keep up with her comrades shifts, was forever fatigued and probably took the most illness days of anyone there. Aithne tolerated her partners situation, but only just since they had had several close calls owing to her not being able to pay attention. Her remark though, annoyed Síonna on this occasion.

“I’ve been awake for ten hours already, bike is broken and I had to get the trawler out this

morning to bring it in to the mechanics. Threw up on the way in thanks for asking. Here’s your itinerary.”

She threw the clipboard down low so Aithne had to dive for it.

“Cut the lip Síonna noone gives you a medal for being on time.”

Síonna was already walking away and giving the fingers

“Don’t slip and break your hip on your way up Boss.”

Aithne ignored her insubordinate talk. Aithne never cared much for correction in speech and Síonna’s poor mood would soon pass. Otherwise the two got on enough not to try and kill each other day by day. She followed up the steel stairs and walked into the complex. Rita may have been ugly, but she was at least expansive and practical. Cranes kept the upper decks supplied while a sail-in checkpoint opened up her lower half. Ships of all sizes passed through to be inspected before going to or coming from Aifric. Each one would send up a care package to the troops in lieu of a passage fee. It was somewhat like a racketeer job but it at least kept both endeavours floating in more ways than one. In many ways Rita was fitting for the base even looked like a person; gobbling up ships in one end, spitting them out on another, all the while the Right and Left Eyes kept watch over everything. The Eyes were the control rooms, manned by RaDAR technicians, map readers, engineers and the Left and Right Eyes themselves: the Commanders of the Coast Guards. Lecinta, the Right Eye, governed patrols, missions and special assignments and Cuirmac, The Left eye, who ran the complex itself, the engineers and assigned overseers to report on ship inspections. Cuirmac was nicknamed rather early on by Old Country recruits as “Cromwell” out of his habit of steamrolling everyone like the tank, and punishing the unfaithful, like the Tank’s namesake. Despite his brutish manner he was liked by the teams for his endless comically long rants. He would often shout down new recruits until he actually turned blue and passed out. He would then ask the recruit to keep position while he recuperated outside, only then returning to begin berating the now bored youngling all over again. Lecinta, meanwhile, was quite different. She was often at times unassuming and quiet, but in such a manner that noone would ever cross her. She liked to slick back her long black hair and wore all grey jackets, which gave her an air of a mafiosa. She rarely raised her voice, but had an innate ability to dress any member down for insubordination with some biting words of wisdom. While Cuirmac was technically her senior officer due to being base commander, he never voiced an opinion contrary to hers in all of Aithne’s years as a CG. Both were permanent residents-on- base, and both fiercely guarded their home from any who would threaten it.

Lecinta was by the window, sipping her scalding hot tea from her favourite steel mug, she was listening to a report coming in and waved a silent hello to Aithne when she entered. Aithne walked down to the barracks and got her gear ready. Her Rifle Refurb, a service knife, rebreather, oxygen tank and mask all went into her pack. The work of a CG was often quite quick. If you didn’t have the upper hand you were as good as dead so it served to travel light and agile. Armour was useless these days against Caladbolg munitions so it was best to be good at dodging. That being said, actual fighting was somewhat rare. Pirates that were good enough would just evade the patrols, which would make it a problem for the base. Those that made it that far were often dissuaded by the heavy artillery on Rita or the many wrecks littering her environs. If they were stupid enough to come that far then they would be made short work of. Otherwise patrolling was more a supervisory job, though not a boring one with the violent seas and dilapidated equipment. A boring day meant a day you got back home with a full belly and no holes in you.

Coming back up to the command room passing the dawn shift as they all wandered towards the dorms, she noticed they seemed in good spirits, so the night must have been a quiet one. She had high hopes that the same would apply to the day shift. She slung her pack over her shoulder and went to see Lecinta to get the sitrep on pirate activity while she was away. The Boss Woman was still at the window drinking tea and looking into the courtyard, she turned when she saw Aithne’s reflection and called her over.

“Aicillllll,” she rolled the L sound, “you may be in trouble I’m afraid m’dearie. Take a look below” Aithne peered out onto the helipad, took one look and slumped below the windowsill letting out a long groan. Lecinta sipped from her cup.

“Yeah they were here for about an hour already, patient buggers I’ll give them that, and

“I can guess, Boss. A few of us took down a drone last night. It was tearing up the flats after some lunatic gun runner. Breandan from Airfort up the ways, y’know him, took it out with a Gaebulg. One shot.”

“Really! Well I’m guessing you had as much a hand in it because they were looking for you.”

“Why though, we didn’t even touch the thing, can’t blame us for defending ourselves when one of their toys runs amok. It was their dog in our yard! C’mon boss tell them I’m out sick or something, couldn’t be arsed dealing with those Pale weirdos.”

“Ah now you are trying to make my day worse, surely Cuirmac has better things to… actually forget I said that, on my way, bury me at sea please!”

Lecinta left Aithne find her own way into the bowels of Rita. It was more aggravation rather than trepidation that filled her heart as she walked down the noisy corridors. Interior ministers were the mouthpieces of the Fethem, under the employ of whoever or whatever was running the factories in the Pale Quarter, the former seat of power before the Revolution days. Ministers were often dressed in outlandish garb much to the derision of those in the slums and the Friary. Long flowing cloaks with Caladbolg infused fibres giving them a pulsating sheen. The clothes were ridiculously uncomfortable to wear, ministers often needing attendants to give them water and carry them when they became too hot. The two here today were slightly different, but anyone could have spotted them a mile away in their crisp tailored outfits and sunglasses. Aithne could just about remember a time when she lived among people like that; she wouldn’t mind a nice new jacket and maybe some not-so- baggy trousers again. What annoyed her most is that they would treat her, a Coast Guard, like dirt, even though she had come from a dynasty that had trumped all ones before it. Try as she could to not be bitter, it was hard to forget all she had before. Even if she was a former elite, being a peacemaker did not get her any respect among the Pale denizens. These impromptu visits only served to make her job that much more difficult. She took her seat in the interrogation room, which really needed a new lick of paint besides the usually caked blood sunrise. The place stank of body fluids and the air was no sweeter once Cuirmac arrived. He had a smell of burning grease clinging to him as he had just come up from the rig’s generator room. Oddly enough he was in good spirits.

“Right you sack of miserable offal, why are you bringing ministers down to us eh?! Make this easy for me I’m on a schedule!”

“No clue Sir, we ran a defuse last night and they must be itchy over it.”

“Nah this seems more, if they ask, it was your idea to put the drone in storage am I clear?!”

“Well, yeah, because it WAS my idea sir, let them in I’ve nothing to hide!”

Cuirmac stormed outside, his sunny disposition lighting up the dank cell, as two shady gents came in after him. They were the usual secret agent sycophants that the slums were used to seeing. Aithne slouched in her chair when she saw that they had a file three inches thick with them. She hoped Síonna had gone to sulk in the dorms because she would be getting some shut eye time after all.

“Good morning Miss. I am Minister Marto, this is my colleague Minister Eanair. We have a few questions for you, and then we would like to discuss some… erh… events of note that happened at some point recently and blah blah blah blah blah”

The discussion turned into a haze of nonsense for Aithne. Every time this happened, and it happened frequently enough to all CGs that it was an issue, work didn’t get done and quotas weren’t filled. Ministers adored their checking and double checking. Despite the fact that Cuirmac and Lecinta kept succinct and clear files stored on all personnel who worked on site, the Ministers always needed their own supply. The file was so big not because Aithne was especially prolific, it was so they could update any little ridiculous detail on a completely new file set. Duplicate after duplicate, detail after detail, the questions went on and on so subjects were often long broken before any actual interrogation took place. Lecinta called it the ”slow boil” and that is what it felt like. Each question was irrelevant, invasive, vague and often all of the above. It used to be that Aithne kept a piece of paper with her biological details on it but she had been asked so many times that she had it memorised. The men continued droning on as she slumped further and further into her chair so much that her knees nearly touched the ground. Still the questions came. At one point she finally snapped:.

“GENTS, THANK YOU. Can we please maybe do these sorts of questions after the interrogation. I’m nice and broken so I shouldn’t imagine myself capable of lying right now! Please just…ask me what you want to actually ask me.”

The two looked at each other, with Eanair shrugging slightly before Marto put away the file in his briefcase.

“Thank you,” breathed out Aithne, now sitting on the floor with her head obscured by the table.”

Marto noted something down on a piece of paper and underlined it before returning to Aithne, who had now returned herself to her seat. She propped her head on her hands and stared unfocussed at the wall while the men gathered themselves. Eanair spoke first.

“As you may be aware, there was an incident last night in Revolution’s lane. An altercation between the Fethem and a-“

“The drone was killing bystanders, we chased it, gutted and dumped it on the side of the street. The salvagers did the rest. We did our jobs, we don’t care if you want reimbursement. Now I have a job to do, if you’ll both excuse me.” She went to the door, muttering distasteful comments as she went along, but Cuirmac had sealed it from above, evidently waiting for a signal to let them out. This day had not gotten any better as of yet.

Marto returned to his briefcase and took out some photographs.

“I’m afraid you don’t quite understand the situation Miss O’Aicil. You see, we are not here on garbage duty as our compatriots in the Fethem can look after that themselves. No we are interested in this man…”

Aithne didn’t have to look down to guess the situation but obliged them. The Buggyman pissed off someone above his paygrade. Marto acknowledged her avoiding looking at the pictures. He understood that Aithne knew the calibre of situation was at hand. He continued:

“This man has knowledge that is of some importance that does not belong to him. It would be in the best interest of everyone; You, I and the Fethem, that he be apprehended as soon as possible. We understand that you alone came in contact with him. Is there anything you would like to-?”

“Salvagers, woman and man; Woman had auburn hair, green eyes, pale complexion, man was ginger, balding, dark eyes, also pale. They roughed him up, don’t know what they wanted or where they were going. We had drinks, can’t remember a lot. They asked him questions, don’t know what. They helped us bring them both down. Far as I know they had him last. Am I clear enough?”

Aithne had played this game long and hard. She always preferred to die quick rather than let someone else mull over her fate. She was implicated in whatever they were interested in knowing. She fudged Ruadha and Eoin’s profiles which might give them a chance if they knew what was good for them. This brought her back to her more clandestine years. The Aicil’s had either absconded or been hung out to dry, often literally. Aithne had gone over the story with Sáille again and again… Farming family, war orphans, Friars could vouch for them, No Relation, No Relation, No Relation.

Sáille hated pretending, she always hated being told to be someone else, but Aithne’s hushed tones and sleepless nights planning told her now was not the time to be herself. Now was the time to leave the Pale before they were kidnapped or sold out or killed. Formerly rich trash would sell well to the right buyer and pirates had already invaded Bethú, looking for their spoils before the Fethem drove them out again. She saw that these two here now were under far more pressure than the interrogators at the border post back then. She could almost see Eanair shake his head ever so slightly before checking himself. If they wanted to pull something, they wouldn’t make it past the front door before Cuirmac had them strung out. Why two ministers for one small Coast Guard.

“You are quite clear, and… I believe that we can become clearer too. We have already been to your friend Breandan Mhac Níosa.” Aithne dropped her shoulders and lowered her eyes. “He is alive and well, we would not mention it if he wasn’t. He believed the theft of Fethem parts more worrisome so he admitted to the other parts of the story you left out. How Ríorchan, oh sorry, that is this man’s name, how Ríorchan had mentioned his connections with the Gaurs and his habit of, eh, doing errands with them. He also mentioned how your family’s name was brought up into the conversation- “that bastard!” thought Aithne- and that the Gaurs were working with this individual who shared your bloodline; now that is as much as he told us. These three individuals, along with a lost Aicil heir… What else can you add to this picture? Would you like to revise your previous story?”

“Well, you have me by the kidney stones I suppose I’ll have to. Scavengers went by the name of Ruadha and Eoin; The both of them from out West. They said they were on a trade excursion. They had your boy alright but that is as much as I know about what they were asking him. I’d assumed they were on to him about the weapons he’d robbed. He’d taken a bunch of tagged shotguns and rifles in a buggy and pulled the drone with him. That’s where we all came in. Like I said we gutted the drone and left it. Your boy’s prosthetics were messed up, so we brought him to a guesthouse to clean him up. That’s where he told us about the Gaurs and that before Ruadha broke his jaw in two. Like his jaw just, *phhhhwee*, flung off his face. The rest was white noise. As for my relative, haven’t spoken to anyone resembling one of those in a long, long time and I’d like to keep it that way.

She stood up and shoved back Eanair when he went to stop her. Marto made no such resistance, remaining seated in his chair. Before walking down the corridor she turned back and spa out:

“Be sure and tell that bastard Breandan if I see him again after finding out he’s in the pocket of Fethem concubines like yerselves… you tell him he’s a dead man.” She slammed the door and startled Cuirmac as he was walking down against her. She could feel the crimson on her face, and wanted more than anything for Breandan to know right now what she would do to get back at traitors.

“Arrgh?! Where?! I can’t feel! Where are my legs?! Oh, wait. Never mind there they are.”

He picked them up from the floor where Ruadha had dropped them with his one good arm.

They were mangled but not beyond repair. He clicked his tongue behind his teeth and jammed them in uncomfortably in their sockets. Bad or no they would have to do until he got back to the shop with them. He guessed rightly that he was lucky they weren’t left in the ruined buggy. His dirty lank hair hung down to his shoulders and a scraggle of a beard clung to his chin. He looked older but he probably was barely into his twenties. He sported a few scars on his cheeks and a missing tooth and if anyone didn’t know better, they’d say he was party to the coastguard members around him. The truth of the matter was, every single person in the Hall of Blasta was waiting for the fighting to begin anew between the four sitting at the table. The buggyman, however, was unaware as to the role of the people he sat with in his rescue. Aithne and Eoin sat silently, with the former covering her mouth to stifle the simmering laughter she was harbouring inside. Breandan was breathing through his nose heavily, implying some animosity with the man who caused him to bust his leg today. Meanwhile beside him Ruadha was lapping it all up.

“Ah look, our poor cratur’ is up at last. We found you out in that ruined buggy, we were so worried that you’d been hurt. We all helped you get back. We’re so so so sorry about your Prosthesis they were broken when we arrived, it must’ve been quite the fight looking as how the place got wrecked so badly. Aww, ohh, ohh tut tut tut tut…” And so on. Ruadha fawned over the buggyman while giving him generous sips of her whiskey. The pressure was building so much and Aithne genuinely prayed Breandan could keep his lid on until Ruadha pounced. On a few occasions he made to speak his mind but Eoin caught his eye and kept him quiet. Moments like these kept everyone going at times and Ruadha soon showed herself to be a master in the art of rising someone.

“So,” Buggyman finally addressed the rest of the group. What are all youz’ into? Drivers like myself? Maybe sailors, going by that gear you have there? He was pointing to Eoin and Aithne’s hook reels; made for working on boats, but also for boarding them uninvited too. Despite the risks of maybe talking to pirates he had his guard well and truly down at this point. “Ye don’t look like those Friary arseholes, swear like they couldn’t fix a wheel never mind me stuff here,” he rapped on his crumpled legs. “Naw wouldn’t trust them boys. Me I go to the Junkers, they know a good part when they see it.” The Junkers, famous for their gun runs on Fethem territories, were also infamous for their dealings with pirates and smugglers, of which the two coastguards knew only too intimately.

On top of that they had a penchant for robbing travelling merchants of their stock should they find them on the road.

“Ah not at all t’all. No Friars here. Tell us though, which Junkers would you like to shop with.” Ruadha poured more whiskey into Buggyman’s cup, she wanted him nice and softened up for what was to come “Ah, the Gaurs! Me and Pa Gaur are just like…” He clenched his fist, probably attempting to illustrate the concept ‘tight,’ ”best of buds, I often bring in the goods from the Chimney district… famed for *burp* famed for bringing in…in.” He slumped against the table and Ruadha groaned in annoyance. Everyone who had been watching sighed and carried on their business now that the fight had been nipped in the bud.

“Well that didn’t last long. The feck were you feeding him Ruadha? Thought you had him and all ready to go,” Aithne complained. Ruadha sniffed her flask and was puzzled. “Regular stuff, nothing added: He just couldn’t handle it. Maybe the anaesthetic we gave him kicked in?” She got up to refill it from her pouch.

Ruadha dashed back to the table and assumed her position once more. Buggyman had begun to resume his spiel and emphasised his notoriety in the Gaur gang as their best gun runner. Aithne, deflated along with the tension, lost interest and watched halfheartedly while sipping her drink…

“And that spa Ricky Gaur, he looks at me and he says…says “ Ruadha readied herself in her chair. “If your working for the Aicil bastard out in the country you’d better…HURCK!”

Aithne spat her drink out as the punch landed. As it turned out, Buggyman’s jaw was a prosthetic too, probably owing to a previous encounter such as this. Ruadha’s fist gave a good fight before it broke, stoving in his chin and sending his mandibles spinning out the side of his face. Whoever installed the jaw and the fake skin did a half baked job of it and in his stupor he hardly noticed… had he not been shot out of his chair and embedded into the wall. He attempted to voice his disapproval but the lack of a mouth made that difficult. For all his blithe ignorance and his dim wit, the man had been butchered throughout his life with augmentation. If anyone had to guess they would say 50/50 when it came to human and machine. The fakery was oddly convincing but fragile. It was possible he had gotten the cosmetic work done but had to resort to gunrunning to fund it. Both exploits were in past tense now as he uselessly tried to throw drunken slurs at Ruadha. While this went on Breandan was having a good laugh at Aithne.

“BAHAHAHAHAhahahah. Ah I knew it you liar! You’re the real deal!” He was doing a good job of fouling Aithne’s mood as she buried her head in her hands out of embarrassment.

“Yeah yeah, say it so they can all hear you big idiot. Go on!”

He lowered his voice to talking level. “Ah I’m only teasing, I knew you were one of them mad yokes. Said nothing though that’s how good I am.

“Piss off Breandan you didn’tthink for a moment I was an actual Aicil.”

“That kind of talk your family were used to!? Ah I’m just joking Aithne. You know what, watch,”

He stood up on the longest table up on a stage at the end of the room, whistled hard and shouted out.

“EVERYONE, HEY!! THIS IS THE LOST HEIR OF THE O’AICILS. SHE’S THE REASON WE’RE ALL IN THIS HOLE! LET’S DRIVE HER OUT OF TOW-!”

Another patron stood up immediately and threw a bottle at Breandan, smashing it hard over his head and knocking him off the table.

“SHUT UP BREANDAN AND ENOUGH WITH YOUR SHITE TALK!”

The patron was met with cheers and someone bought her a replacment drink for silencing the dissenter. Aithne walked over to where Breandan was slumped on the floor. His temples were bleeding but he had a great grin on his face.

You’re a pain in the hole Breandan; c’mon I’m driving but you’re walking yourself in. We’ve work in the morning so I’m not breaking my back carrying you. Ruadha! Eoin!” She saluted the two as they went out. Ruadha was nursing her hand while Eoin had taken over the interrogations. Ruadha’s soft touch had made communication one sided with buggyman, so Eoin was making plenty of notes on a map of his. They saluted back and continued with their work. Breandan slid onto Aithne’s bike, and slid right off again when she took off with a jump. He laughed to himself on the icey concrete while he waited for her to reverse. When Aithne came back after a minute he was hiccupping, chuckling and sobbing all at once.

“What’s up with you Breandan? C’mon up with you.”

He obliged and remained silent for the rest of the trip, Aithne got him back to his communal flat, clasped his hand in a hardy shake and bid him goodbye. She looked around as she turned a corner for her own way home, but did not see him waving goodbye.

]]>https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/27/aoisnua-pt-2/feed/0maelstrominthevalleyBack Againhttps://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/27/back-again/
https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/27/back-again/#respondFri, 27 May 2016 22:55:40 +0000http://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/?p=428Not quite dead yet. Managed to get very little done in the last few months owing to many, many myriad reasons. Will start uploading backlog and get the engine churning again.
]]>https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2016/05/27/back-again/feed/0maelstrominthevalleyVehla of Urso: A Demon’s Souls Fan-Fiction Pt. 17https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2015/10/23/vehla-of-urso-a-demons-souls-fan-fiction-pt-17/
https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2015/10/23/vehla-of-urso-a-demons-souls-fan-fiction-pt-17/#respondFri, 23 Oct 2015 13:09:54 +0000http://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/?p=412Continue reading →]]>Vehla slept, but mercifully could not recall dreaming. she remembered stillness in that chamber, and a soothing warmth running from her fingertips and down through her underside, as if she were sleeping in a shallow hot spring. It was not unpleasant, and she was only dimly aware of what was going on around her. Two figures stood in front of her, her eyes couldn’t focus on them and could only make out dim blurs against the wan light in the chamber. Muffled words were being spoken, yet she could not hear them properly. She fell in and out of complete consciousness before finally normal feeling began to return to her body. The heat slowly began to envelope her and she could fathom that a fire was lit in the room. Her eyelids were uncomfortably stuck closed and she scrunched them in an attempt to moisten her eyes. She inhaled deeply, feeding her lungs the hot air, and settling down again. She could feel a pressure mounding in her skull, and the rest of her body ached slightly but was not too much to bear. She groaned and began to turn feebly onto her side, her face falling onto the hand of someone sitting beside her. She flattened again and heard the companion call out.

“……hla…..Vehla……Vehla wake up! Come on, you’ve had enough rest, I’m not going to look after you for much longer.”

Luan’s chirruping voice rang in her ears and sounded like a war drum to her sensitive cranium. Vehla groaned again, and turned to her other side. She heard a whooshing noise, and shrieked as a blob of water fell atop her head.

“Aaaaaaaagh! Luan! That’s freezing!” She flung herself upwards and knocked over a chest from a nearby stone pedestal and sent it to the floor. She almost tripped over before Luan caught her hand. “Come now, gather yourself, lady Knight. Some composure wouldn’t go astray now would it?!”

Luan had suffered from her ordeal with the demon. A small cane sat across her lap and her arm was wrapped in balm and bandages to cover up the worst of the burns. She seemed nonplussed however, and despite these seemed her old self.

“Whab day is it?” Vehla asked, slurring her words slightly. “What manner of spell was that Luan?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue the answer to that question, Vehla. I assume you mean how long have you been here? You know more than I that time means little in this place. If I had to guess you have been asleep here for a few days, since you disappeared shortly after the Old man returned according to those who saw you come in. I was recuperating myself in the infirmary, when the Maiden asked of me to deliver a message to you here. Why you were unconscious I do not know and the Maiden did not elaborate. As for the spell, I use it for putting out campfires and waking lazy friends in equal measure.”

“I was… such a strange thing Luan. Someone brought me here… there were two at some point. Luan… I think something is happening to me. I had these dreadful visions of…”

Luan’s eyes flickered in the light for a moment. She looked away, with head in chin and remained silent. When she turned back Vehla had filled a tankard from the water vein which ran through the Nexus and drank back the soil filtered elixir. She was inspecting her new garb as she drank.

“It’s a Nexus Acolyte’s garb. Much like the Maiden’s only a different colour. The cape is over there in the alcove by the door should you desire it though there aren’t any shoes either. the Maiden had tended to you for a day when I first found you before she left again. Your leather clothes were tattered so she gave them to the assistant physicians for emergency supplies. They were well sanctified by whatever heat you found in the chamber I would say.”

“Vehla gulped down the cool water, “Indeed they were, what news of the Boletarians? They were celebrating when I was last awake.”

“Those celebrations are well and truly over, The Old man is at work and the soldiers are gathering ore and supplies. It will be some time yet before they are ready to storm the gates of Boletaria again it seems. Now is the time to ready onese… are you alright Vehla? Are you no longer concerned as to how you got here?”

Vehla may have paid the question lip service, but was now readying her equipment at gathering pace. Her Talisman had shattered into pieces when she cast it aside, so she kept the fragments for Boldwin to look at. Her sword was next to useless, she would grab one of the spare ones Thomas usually had lying about. She decided to forego a shield from now on, seeing as how useless this one had been against the flame demons. She imagine there may yet be stronger ones out there and keeping so much equipment would only hamper her now. She needed a good set of armour to match that too…

“VEHLA!” Luan’s shout jerked her out of her errant-mindedness and she looked quizzically at her friend. “Vehla how did you get up here? Not many below make their way here?”

“Why, it seems like any other room?” Vehla looked around. Bar some symbols she didn’t recognise and some battered books on a lectern, the room was unremarkable bar its size which was quite large for a place so nondescript. Luan studied her for a moment, sighed and seemed to dispel her thoughts. She reasserted her composure and stood up, leaning lightly on the cane. “You spoke of dreams, did you Vehla? Your disappearance I cannot fathom now, but I can at least advise you on the dreams. You thought of murder didn’t you? Murder of… of the innocent?”

“Why, yes. I cannot remember specifics but I… I recall that much, the feeling of… hating the living. T’was unpleasant.”

“Hmm-Hmm. I’m afraid it was inevitable, Vehla. That is a soul thirst. It affects all of us who have become phantoms at one time or another, especially those who hunt demons. The more you absorb souls, the more you take on aspects of them whether it be strength, memories… and desires. I studied as much under Sage Freke. The souls you are consuming are turning you into a demon, Vehla.”

“Oh… that is comforting(!)” Vehla scoffed.

“It is not something to be laughed at, but neither is it lacking in use. The more you fight stronger demons the stronger you become in turn and so on. It is the law of survival in this land. However, the side effects cannot be ignored. You remember us speaking of the black shades correct?”

“I do indeed, former warriors of the Nexus weren’t they?”

“Aye, and formidable ones too. They are the culmination of this curse. Power drove them on to their ends. The more souls they absorbed, the more they thirsted for more and sought stronger foes to consume. Eventually they grew too dangerous and were banished from the Nexus. at least that is what I have gathered so far during my time here. There…”

Luan grew silent again, unsure of what to say. Vehla sat and waited for her to gather herself, not wanting to prod less she have second thoughts. Luan walked over, asking Vehla to give her a moment. She picked up one of the tomes lying on the lectern and flicked through it, studying the pages before setting it down again. She sighed and leaned her arms atop the flat surface and regarded her ally.

“There is a means with which you can mitigate the damage. I do not feel you will be able to accomplish the task, honestly. Your skill and tenacity is not what would be tested here. It would be something that you haven’t quite shown me yet…”

Vehla listened intently as Luan explained the means by which to shake the soul thirst. Every word she took in and with every word her friend began to morph before her eyes. They had faced trials together at this point and had often spoken at length when resting inside the Nexus, telling each other of their past lives. What Luan was telling her here and now though, Vehla knew she could not even utter a hint of to anyone else in the Nexus lest Luan and others would immediately suffer. Hallowed place or no, the acolytes of the church would “cleanse” her at any choice they had, and even her own peers in the mage colleges would at least ostracize her if not hand her up entirely. Luan was a Witch, learned in primal arts that predated the sages and the bishops that decried them. She had kept it well hidden, creating cover story after cover story to tidy up her true past for the sages to be happy enough. A talented mage from a backwoods village who was expelled for her curiosity of magic arts, she wandered towns until she found a patron in the Eastern nations. Noone travelled there much from Boletaria so none found it suspicious that such a young girl with dark features would hail from the relatively magic free region. A freak occurrence, but acceptably plausible. Her Patron would send funds now and again to cover her education pending her return, and the college couldn’t care less where the patron found the money, especially lately now the soul arts had bolstered their ranks tremendously

The truth of it was, Luan was born into a community of witches between Boletaria and Latria. While Boletaria had a stronger magical energy coursing through its lands, Latria was far more forgiving of those who practiced darker arts as long as human sacrifice wasn’t used. Religious freedom had been a tenet of the old powers since many of Latria’s rulers had hailed from royal families abroad. This meant that her family could live in relative safety in the bosom of the lush Latrian Valleys. Her father was a foreign officer of the Allied Kingdoms Army and her mother a territorial officer in Latria. Both were training in Magic warfare, met on official duty and passed on their talents to their daughter. While her mother had moved to her father’s homeland many years prior and probably remained there, her father had been in one of the pushes to retake the lands claimed by the fog. He had been sent to the land of the giants, and considering how those lands were now inaccessible, they had no reason to expect to see him again in one piece. Luan had some hope when she heard of Vallarfax escaping the fog and so signed up for an expedition to find Sage Freke, the master of the college. It was foolhardy but a risk she wanted to take, even if it might mean finding her father’s remains. The expedition was a disaster: half of the students were lost in the fog, the rest scattered among the lands with only a handful finding their way into the Nexus. Luan gave up her search and… Her story trailed off.

“What is it? Luan what does this all have to do with a way to slake the soul thirst?”

“Ok Vehla, I have trusted you with a lot today. I need you to trust that this information I got in… less than desirable ways and that you not knowing will serve to save you for a while longer. I will tell you when it is most urgent but not a second sooner. I want to see you alive before the time comes. Please do not argue. What you want is a red stone in the temple of Latria. Bring it to me and I will show you what you need to do…”

“I…you trust me with the information you gave me today Luan… I feel I have little other choice right now. But you have played a dangerous card. Myself, the demons, the acolytes, the mages and you-all are in a dangerous game right now and your place among them is shaky is it not?”

“It is, though rest assured I do not play for ambition Vehla. I swear, allow me this secrecy and both of us may get out of here in some semblance of ourselves. Go to Latria…”

Vehla nodded, gathered her things and left the chamber. she was hardly surprised when she turned and saw that the entrance had disappeared on her leaving. She walked down the stairs and ran into Gregory as he was walking up them.

“Are you off Vehla? Was just looking for Luan we were going to discuss training some new recruits that just arrived. Everyone is so busy that the peons haven’t the time to complain to us anymore!”

“I’m not sure where she is Gregory, and yes I’m travelling to Latria today.”

“Ah, well, best of luck, think I will be sticking this one out. But oh! Latria… Hhhrm.”

“What is it?”

“Well, one of the older gents, Lord Rydell, he set out for Latria some few weeks ago. He fancies himself an adventurer of sorts. One would think he’s dead but I have a bet on with the new trainees that he’ll be back soon. Should you find him it’d be great if you keep him alive. We…”

Vehla was giving Gregory a disapproving look. He cleared his throat.

“Well, uh I’m sure he’d be of great help to you either way. Cheerio!”

He skipped past on his fruitless search for Luan. Vehla’s shoulders drooped and she set off downward into the main Sanctum, on her way to the halls of Latria.

]]>https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2015/10/23/vehla-of-urso-a-demons-souls-fan-fiction-pt-17/feed/0maelstrominthevalleyVehla of Urso: A Demon’s Souls Fan-fiction Pt. 16https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2015/10/04/vehla-of-urso-a-demons-souls-fan-fiction-pt-16/
https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2015/10/04/vehla-of-urso-a-demons-souls-fan-fiction-pt-16/#respondSun, 04 Oct 2015 21:15:01 +0000http://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/?p=406Continue reading →]]>As Vehla crossed back into the Nexus, she heard cheers erupting from the main hall below. Boletarian soldiers and warriors from abroad were making merriment amongst one another as they encircled Boldwin and Cluain, patting the smith on the back and filling a tankard and plate of smoked meat for the barbarian. Boldwin was puffing out his bony chest and held in his hands the glimmering soul of the demon smith. Warriors were running up to him producing stones and shards of various size and luminescence with a few like the one Scirvir had given Vehla. She recognized them now as enchanted stones that Boletaria had been famous for. Though the stones were found worldwide, the kingdom had a name for studying their effects and being patron to both miner and scholar alike who had experience with the magical ore. Despite his heroic status ,Boldwin would not be able to work such complex materials except in a rudimentary way. It was Ed who would direct the work while Boldwin and his apprentices would do the legwork. Nevertheless, Ed wouldn’t have even considered helping had they not taken the demon smith’s soul into the possession of the Nexus. He had that peculiarity about him sometimes, being talented but fickle as opposed to Boldwin’s foulmouthed but hardworking ethos. Together they would provide the Nexus warriors, and the Boletarians, some hope of reclaiming the land.

Stonefang was now released from the grip of powerful demons-its bowels would remain infested but the ministers had been purged and a base camp could be established to transport ore through the archstone and back to the Nexus, and the morale of the troops would shoot up in concurrence with the quality of their new armor and weapons. Some real gains could at last be made in retaking the Keep. Who knows, maybe they would be able to stop the demon menace from the source? From what Vehla had seen, it was unlikely, but they needed some optimism. The longer they tarried here, the more those left behind would suffer. All the news that emanated from the Boletarian keep and city was bad and growing worse, as the demon ministers fed from the populace in body, stores and souls. Stonefangs liberation had not been taken well, as the invaders had failed to take the power of the underground dragon graveyard under their control. They enacted reprisals in fury with this outrage not just in the city, but in the nearby Latrian domain, where the old queen had held up until her deposition and execution at the hands of her jilted husband. A temple knight from Latria recounted how he had been banished and the learned nation had held off the horde by using their watery environs to their advantage. That is until he returned with another demon horde at his back, somehow pumping the water out of the lake in which the tower was built and allowing the demons into a secret passage through the towers. The people sheltering in the church were rounded up, and those that weren’t slaughtered there were brought to the labyrinthine prisons to be kept as slaves. The knight escaped with his charges before he could learn any more, yet the rest wasn’t hard to speculate on. There was some glimmer of hope in all this madness. The Shrine of Storms, though overtaken by the dead, was isolated and demons there were not encroaching on the mainland. What’s more, there was talk of a valley to the Southeast managing to stem the flow of demons, and managing to even divert the Ministers’ attentions elsewhere for a change.

While the Boletarians readied themselves for a renewed assault, Vehla was left with a new dilemma for herself. She was certainly an ally of the army, but she was under noone’s command here. She did not know how she would fit into an offensive. For now she would speak with the Candle Girl. Though often cryptic in her directions, Vehla found her time with the Maiden eased her troubled thoughts, and visited often in order to renew herself. The Maiden told Vehla stories of old legends in days gone by, almost as if she lived them in some cases. They were often fascinating and sometimes even helped her make sense of the current madness. Many of the beasts and gods in the stories had taken shape among the demons, feeding upon the life energy of the land and forming from the minds of those that had summoned them. Each demon took on a visage of the fears of humanity; It made them no less dangerous, but allowed Vehla to face them with less trepidation. These were beings with their own desires and wants, and while said desires may have been alien and unthinkable to a human such as herself, they offered a glimpse into the minds of what they were battling. The Minsters desired power, the undead demanded reprieve from their agonising rebirths, the spirits desired vengeance, the beasts desired to feed. Only the Archdemons remained, seeking something that none of the others could dream of fulfilling, and no human could comprehend. No matter who they were the demons flocked to those more powerful than they so they would attain even a fraction of the souls left over, mere gnats and nuisances in the face of the Archdemons. Which made the following meeting all the more unsettling.

Vehla alighted the stairs leading to the chamber where the Maiden often meditated and swore she could hear a low sobbing as she approached. She tried to be as quiet and quick as she could as she came closer, steadying her breathing and straining her ears. As soon as she was about to enter, the cries stopped and she say the maiden sitting cross-legged on a stone platform, facing the doorway as if she were staring out of it. Thin beams of light crept through thin openings in the wall and swayed across the room, washing over the maiden before reappearing again and again. When Vehla entered they disappeared, the Maiden remained slient, and she began to grip her staff tightly. Vehla felt the air in the room become cool and almost chilly. She felt unwelcome…

“Maiden, am I disturbing you?”

“No, Warrior.”

Silence.

“Maiden, have I done something to offend you? I merely wished to…”

“You have done no such thing, Warrior. You need not pay attention to this. You have only done that which you must. It is the actions of others that have disturbed me so. The soul burning in you is one of a powerful few, and you carry it as if it were a toy…” She noticed Vehla looked dejected at the admonishment. “Be not worried, Warrior, be glad that you do not know the weight of the burden you are to carry yet. when the time comes that you attain the power the Monumental seeks to give you, I will be there…

The sadness tinging the Maiden’s voice was a new occurrence. Though never unkind, her voice before had been indirect and distant. The words were caring but they seemed rote and mechanical, fulfilling a duty rather than reflecting her heart. Her tone here was much more melancholy. Vehla grew more curious.

“If it were another warrior, Maiden, they would not speak of this again, yet I find myself questioning your meaning. I must know what you speak of. Is it the dragon? What i saw when it fused with my won soul? I saw the ceremony that birthed it, much as I have with other Demons before, but never so vivid, except for the one you showed me.”

The Maiden raised her head and looked straight at Vehla, a piercing gaze hidden beyond the wax. “There is nothing I can tell you now, Warrior, that would benefit our goal in the slightest. We will not speak of this again, and that is the truth of it. You seek guidance? I am afraid now I can offer none that would comfort you. I imagine you have two choices burning your mind. Set off and try to reclaim the tower, or seek aid in the valley. Both paths will test you in both mind and body, and yet the power you have claimed ensures that more and more foes will stand in your way til there are no souls left to oppose you. No demon, no man, no beast will be able to stop you.”

Vehla was growing more and more uncomfortable with the Maiden’s speech. And an anger was beginning to well up inside her aswell, though she kept it at bay and held her tongue. why was the maiden so suddenly brusque and venomous? What did the dragon grant Vehla that had earned so much hostility from an ally? She would have to put it down to something else bothering the maiden and tried to change the subject.

“Then I ask that you choose for me, Maiden, where or what should I do now?”

The Maiden stood up and thought for a moment.

“To face what is to come, you will have to steel yourself. To do such a thing you will have to see the depths of what man and demon are capable of, before you see the ability of man alone to violate his own. You will see what the temptation of power can do before you realise just how easily evil can be accomplished. Go to the tower, see what has become of the Queen, see what has become of nature. The valley will wait, for that will be a test for you. Before any of that, speak with your allies and ready yourselves.

So she was going to be cryptic and hostile today. Vehla saw no reason in arguing and returned to the chamber below. The soldiers had dispersed to the many temporary bases littering the Nexus. While the Main tower made up the bulk of the place, beyond the main hall were many large alcoves and passageways that all circled back on each other. Every day a soldier would explore a new tunnel and yet again find themselves back in the main Hall, with the familiar stone goddess high up in the ceiling, clutching her holy sword. Vehla gazed at it for a moment while she had the hall to herself. Resplendent and adorned with a ceremonial spear at her back, she stands watch over the levels below. Vehla remembered back to when her village was visited by Saint Merlorias; a stern but soft spoken woman, she reminded her much of the statue. Merlorias was the one who had inspired Vehla to take up the knight’s path. She had said God praises those who have power, yet only if they use the power to serve the meek. As Vehla grew, she understood how others chose not to follow this path, and at times realized how rudimentary and inadequate it would be in the real world. But throughout her childhood she tried to follow the spirit of the idea. When the older boys and girls would strike her down for objecting to breaking the rules or some other childlike trifles she would stand firm again and again. Eventually she would tire and be unable to struggle anymore, laying low while they spat at her and moved on. When she was powerless she would fume at her own failure to follow the path. But then, as time wore on, she grew ever stronger. Hard graft on the farm after her father had died steeled her bones, made her limbs sinewy with a good dose of speed and strength for her age. Her mind too grew strong. Feeling hatred from her peers, yet feeling the warmth of her family and neighbors gave depth to her view of right and wrong. Though she was long in finding it, she found the path she wanted.

She found a good natured though unambitious knight to page for, and he brought her to the Northwestern town of Lowroad Mer, a remnant of the old Mirdan empire that had sprouted dozens of churches there. While learning her vows she began seeing the frivolity of the very temple Merlorias had once taught in: bribery, mockery of the station, dark stories about temples abroad. During this time she began to waver in her faith, but grow firm in her resolve to be a great knight. It was a naive, teenage desire to see wrongs righted at first. The arduousness of such a task became clearer with time, but she was too far in to give up. In martial matters she was strong, though unremarkable, and in her studies she learned well enough to pass, though blew noone away with her intellect. She was given a talisman as proof of her vows being said, and a small personalised book of prayer proving her literacy, of all the things needed in war. In theory it was proof of a knights fervour for the cause, but in reality it served to prove she could become an officer in a garrison or village militia if the need was desperate enough.. There was little glory in it, as she could never afford the tests required for Captain and higher, but she would likely be the most decorated soldier from her village. Small consolidation but it meant something back then. She could provide protection to the meek, just like she’d always wanted. This was the heart of the niggling doubt growing ever larger since she arrived. She was growing strong by devouring the souls of the living. When would she stop? How could she stop? Why would she stop.

The thought attacked her and she tried to shake it off, but she saw it there before her, as clear as day. She saw an apparition form in her mind, dark and monstrous, blood dripping from her hands and blades sticking into her body. She could feel the pain, and then the apparition was free, slaughtering everyone she knew, man woman and child. Ripping them apart, commanding others to do the same, savoring their anguish. She then began to see others that she didn’t recognize, many looked like pictures from her history book. They were all stripped and tied to posts before all being flayed alive. The emotion began to overcome her, an intense hate, a righteous vindication at these people’s suffering. Old and young they all deserved it didn’t they! They feared us, and rightly so! They would know their master once more and…

She had fallen to her knees and was clutching her head, covering her eyes and trying to shut out the horror playing out before her. She pressed her palms hard against the surface of her eyelids, tempted to crush them if only to stop the bloodshed. Now she began to hear their screams. What was this. What had brought it on? She must have contracted a fever, she pulled out a talisman and attempted to cure herself, but the charm began to reverberate against her with the same screams and torturous sounds. She flung it away but the noise remained, she could make out some faint footsteps and opened an eye to see someone running towards her. She reached for a knife on instinct but her assailant kicked it out of her hands before flinging her down against a nearby pillar. Sparks flew from the attackers hand and Vehla felt herself grow cold and numb. She was vaguely aware of being carried, and caught glimpses of light in her eyes, though only blurry images. She felt herself fall gently onto a stone slab, and muffled voices were conversing behind her, one loud and frenzied and one softer. She heard some footsteps approach her, and then fell into a deep slumber.

]]>https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2015/10/04/vehla-of-urso-a-demons-souls-fan-fiction-pt-16/feed/0maelstrominthevalleyQuick Update 26/9/15https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2015/09/26/quick-update-26915/
https://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/2015/09/26/quick-update-26915/#respondSat, 26 Sep 2015 11:25:14 +0000http://maelstrominthevalley.wordpress.com/?p=401Continue reading →]]>Hey, anyone who has checked out the blog; Good news and bad news. Bad is, I’ve lagged behind a lot on my writing both here and in other projects. Good news is, it’s because I’ve been busy with a new job! Unfortunately I can’t give a concrete answer on when I will get back to writing consistently, but I will return someday I am sure! Thanks for the reading guys and gals!
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